Anything
by fandombloggingaddict
Summary: A sequel to my story "Seven Months". Eliot is recovered and the team tries to move on, but it's not easy. Gives context for some scenes in "Seven Months". Oneshot.


Eliot had the team over for dinner. He wanted to clear the air after the seven months they'd been through. Actually, the meal was at Nate's apartment, but it felt like home to everyone anyway, the mastermind wouldn't complain.

Nate sat at the head of the table as the others arrived. Eliot's spot was at his right side, along with Parker. Sophie sat at Nate's left and Hardison sat across from Parker. Once Eliot served the hearty meal, he sat down.

"Dig in," He smiled, doing as much. He was practically ravenous after all the cooking he'd done. The others did the same, then complimented his work before starting a debate over con names. Sophie and Hardison were the most passionate, the classic grifter and new-age hacker butting heads, while Nate and Parker corrected them here and there. The dinner idea seemed to be working.

Until the TV turned on by itself.

On the screen, Akbhan stood above Eliot, who lay on the ground staring up defiantly at him. The Syrian knelt and raised the hammer in his hand, then brought it down to break the hitter's left leg. Eliot screamed. Akbhan broke the other, then stood. As Eliot's second scream died off, he said, "This is what happens when you try to run from me."

Real life Eliot stood angrily and stormed over to the living room table, snatching up the remote to turn it off. He did, but as soon as he walked away, it came back to life with another video. This time, guards had just finished beating him bloody when Akbhan went to him, grabbed his hands, and held a knife to his wrists.

"You fought to escape. For this, you will lose your hands." The Syrian began sawing into the wrists. They bled heavily and Eliot tried to pull away before he yelled in pain.

"Stop, STOP! Stop, m'sorry, stop..."

"Promise that you will not try to escape again."

Eliot hesitated, and Akbhan sliced farther, blood gushing faster.

"I promise, I'll stop!"

By now the real Eliot had pressed the power button on the TV itself. Before he could yell at Hardison for letting this hack happen, the device started up again.

On screen, Eliot was handcuffed and kneeling, facing Nate.

"He says that this is a lesson of what happens when you try to escape." The hitter lowered his head and then he was whipped. He groaned, then cried out, then, when the hits became too harsh and fast, he screamed. Blood splattered and he screamed.

Eliot just punched through the screen this time.

"What the HELL was that?" The hitter bellowed.

"A threat," Nate answered darkly. "He's coming."

"How was that a threat?" Hardison asked, going to the TV. Eliot stepped away from him.

"Each video was of the consequences of trying to escape."

"And now, he did," Parker continued.

"And Akbhan is not happy." The mastermind concluded.

Eliot ran a hand through his hair. "He's comin' for me." Then, he tensed. "But he knows who helped me..." He looked up at Nate. "He's comin' for all of us."

The front door slammed open and over a dozen men with machine guns raised poured in. Syrians. A handful headed for Nate, Sophie, and Parker; one came for Hardison, and the rest stood at the perimeter of the room and aimed at the team.

"Don't touch them!" Eliot growled, but a gunman behind him hit him over the head with his weapon. Eliot stumbled a bit as Hardison was shoved away from him and toward the others. The four team members were forced to their knees where they stood, feet from the dining room table. Four men stood behind them and aimed their guns at their heads.

Then, Akbhan strolled in. He smiled.

"Spencer! How nice it is to see you again." He continued toward the hitter, who squared his shoulders and glared at him. "I did miss you," The Syrian said when he came to the hitter. He reached out a hand to cup Eliot's face, but Eliot stepped back. He was grabbed by some gunmen behind him. He spun around and fought them, knocking one away from him before another tasered him in the side. Eliot cried out and fell to one knee. Akbhan grabbed a fistful of his hair and leaned down to growl, "You resist my men again, and I'll kill your team right here, right now. Understand?"

Eliot paused, then nodded minutely. Akbhan released him and stood back while his men manhandled him into standing and facing his old captor, arms held behind his back. He looked to his team. Each of them looked angry. He looked back at the Syrian, who was staring at the hitter's body.

"You're well recovered, I see," He said, stepping forward. He reached out and ran a hand down Eliot's arm, feeling the muscle there, then his chest. "Healthy again. In shape. Still, you'll never be free of the marks I left on your skin, hmm?" Akbhan hummed and took up the hem of Eliot's shirt, pulling it up over his head and down his arms behind him, leaving it there. Then, he brushed his fingertips over the scars on the hitter's chest. They lingered over a particularly long one, running down the scar's length from one end, at the left shoulder, down to its other, by Eliot's right side. The hitter shivered at the light touch.

"Do you remember how you got this?" Akbhan asked, still stroking the scar. Eliot nodded, looking away. The Syrian chuckled. "Yes, as you should. It was the first time you disobeyed me. My, how incredible it was to see just how much you bled before passing out. You lay in a pool of it, thinking you would die. And you were not afraid." He leaned in. "I learned that you do not fear death. But you feared pain and loss. And you would learn to fear me, isn't that right?"

Eliot didn't respond.

"ANSWER ME!" Akbhan bellowed, making the hitter flinch.

"Yes."

Akbhan leaned in farther. "But I am not the only one that you fear, am I?"

One of the men restraining Eliot leaned up against him from behind and said something in Arabic in his ear. Eliot paled and tried to twist away slightly.

Akbhan violently kissed him then, grabbing a fistful of his long hair and forcing his way into the hitter's mouth. At the same time, the man behind him reached around and grabbed the trapped man's crotch. Eliot tried not to fight back. The man behind him continued to use his hand to massage him while he used the other hand to feel his chest, stroking the scars there. When Akbhan didn't allow him enough air, only pulling away for a second at a time and going back before the hitter could breathe, Eliot tried to pull away. Their hands, mouths... he had to get away from them. He fought to get free, twisting and bucking. The man behind him focused on keeping him restrained, and Akbhan moved back, growling.

"Kill them!" He yelled, turning to the men behind the team.

"NO!" Eliot screamed breathlessly as the Syrians were about to fire. "Stop, I'll do anything! PLEASE!"

Akbhan raised his hand and his men stopped. He turned back to the hitter. "Anything?"

"Anything," Eliot confirmed.

Akbhan looked interested. "You said the same thing to me when I touched the blonde. My men also told me that when Nate Ford was thrown in your cell, when a guard went for him, you said the same. Is it possible that you actually love them?"

Eliot remained silent.

"Would you die for them?"

The hitter nodded.

"Kill for them?" He nodded again.

Akbhan smirked. "Will you return to your cell, submit to me, and never resist or attempt escape again?"

Eliot blanched and the team yelled and threatened at the top of their lungs. They were silenced when guns were pressed into their heads in warning.

The hitter nodded.

He was cuffed and chained, then dragged away.

"Oh, and Spencer?"

Eliot looked back in time to see Akbhan execute each team member with a shot between the eyes.

He screamed.

Then, he woke up, alone in his bed, drenched in sweat, twisted up in the sheets, and crying.


End file.
